


Know Thyself

by holdinginpee



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Grinding, Making Out, Muscle Kink, Self-cest, Strap-Ons, also of Chronic Pain/Injury, and Deepthroating, mentions of Scar Kink, please don't stitch up your own wounds and then have sex right afterwards., sara is great. she deserves to be with someone equally as great., so this is just maths really., this can't possibly be sanitary wound care though.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdinginpee/pseuds/holdinginpee
Summary: Sara has another encounter with her teenage self. This one is a little more intimate.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Sara Lance
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Know Thyself

**Author's Note:**

> ...in the biblical sense, of course.
> 
> still a better pairing than avalance l m A O
> 
> (i'm kidding. this is a joke. i don't ship avalance - check the comments if you want to know why, i guess - but that doesn't mean i think other people shouldn't or hate people who do or anything stupid like that. okay? okay.)
> 
> anyway i don't know when this is set in older sara's timeline but at the very least it's later than 2x12. younger sara is shortly after the team rescued her from the pilgrim in 1x12.

Sara had only just started stitching up the gash in her leg when she heard a key turn in the lock. _Shit,_ she thought, and slid down to put the bulk of the couch between herself and the door. Nobody was supposed to be here right now! That was the whole reason _she_ was here!

 _Nothing can ever be easy, can it._ She palmed a knife and peered round the couch, ready to throw it if need be. The door swung open, letting the interloper into the house; she glanced around the room, frowning, and then locked eyes with Sara where she was crouched on the floor.

“ _Aaah!_ ” screamed Sara’s nineteen-year-old past self, stumbling backwards in an abortive escape attempt before recognition set in. “ _Fuck!_ Don’t _do_ that!”

Sara lowered the knife and stood up. “Sorry,” she told herself. “I didn’t expect you to be here. Thought the place was empty for the week.”

“Mom and Dad are out of town,” Young Sara confirmed. “I came back to get- Wait, shouldn’t you know this already?”

“Hm?” Sara hummed, blandly.

“I’m not _stupid,_ ” Young Sara informed her. “A bulletproof chick shows up and tries to kill _me_ specifically, and then I’m rescued by a ninja who looks exactly like me and abducted to a talking spaceship that opens when it scans my hand? I figured out it was time travel as soon as everything calmed down enough that I could hear myself think. She was there to what, kill me before I got…” she gestured to Sara. “Awesome?”

Sara grinned. “You’re already awesome, kid. There was more going on, but yeah, she wanted to get to me before my Assassin training.”

“ _Assassin?_ ”

Sara didn’t answer her, and instead sat back down on the couch to resume fixing her leg. At some point during the motion the needle had stuck her, so now that was bleeding too. She grabbed a disinfectant wipe and a band-aid.

Young Sara huffed. “Fine. And I didn’t say anything because I figured you might wipe my memory or something if I knew I had future knowledge.”

“Oh yeah,” Sara confirmed. “We’re definitely gonna have to do that. Which explains why I thought you were still staying with… what was her name?”

“Abby.” Young Sara approached the couch. “Because Mom and Dad didn’t want me and Laurel left alone after your future assassin tried to _Oh my God what happened to your leg?_ ”

“Long story. It looks worse than it is.” The wound was long, but shallow enough that once it was stitched up it wouldn’t impede her movement. She’d been fast enough to avoid taking the worst of it. “The guy that did this also fried my comms, so I needed somewhere to get a med kit and a phone.”

“And you thought no-one was home.” Sara nodded. Young Sara seemed torn between looking at the wound and not looking at it, and had ended up deliberately looking away but sneaking occasional glances out of the corner of her eye. “Does that… Do you get hurt a lot, being an assassin?”

“You get used to it.” That was probably not very reassuring, Sara considered, but she knew herself well enough that she knew her younger self would rather the true answer than the nice one. And it _was_ true. Stitching herself up came naturally by this point, and she was well accustomed to her old injuries by now. The way her hand twinged when she bent her fingers too far, the bone-deep ache in her leg that never quite went away, how her scars felt stiff and sore when it got cold. All of it just… background noise. “Besides, you know what they say, chicks dig scars.”

Young Sara frowned, turning to look at her properly. “Chicks? I don’t- I’m not- I’m _straight._ ”

Sara laughed. “Did I still think that at your age?” She finished stitching and tied off the thread, then picked up a bandage. “You really aren’t, kid. Guys are good and all, sure, but girls are _great._ ”

She applied the bandage and watched her younger self stand frozen in thought for a minute, then snap out of it and head into the kitchen, returning with two cans of beer. She collapsed down onto the couch next to Sara and handed one of the cans to her, then cracked her own open and took a long swig. “Well, shit.”

Sara opened her can and held it up; Young Sara tapped hers against it.

“Wait, were you going to _stab_ me with that?”

She picked up the throwing knife from the table and spun it around in her hand. “No. I was going to throw it at you.”

“That counts.”

Sara shrugged. “Then yeah. If you were a bad guy, I was gonna stab you.”

Young Sara took another long drink from her beer. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure.” She handed it over, holding the flat of the blade between her fingers. “Careful. It’s sharp.”

Her younger self took it hesitantly, looking over it from multiple angles. Once she was sure it wasn’t going to bite her, she firmed her grip a little, pointing it at air and giving a few vague stabs. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket and she yelped, jumped, and dropped the knife. Sara lunged forward to grab it before it could land and raised an eyebrow at her. God, she couldn’t even remember being so… untrained. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Depending on your definition, several lifetimes.

Young Sara flushed and checked her phone (It still had _buttons,_ which made Sara feel old) before typing out a reply. “It’s Abby,” she informed Sara.

“She say anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

Sara nodded. “Yeah, looking back, I don’t think I liked her for her charm and wit.”

“What, like I’m just friends with her because I’m…” she hesitated. “Bi?”

“She was kind of a bitch,” she pointed out. “But she was also hot. Pretty good kisser, too, but you probably haven’t tried that yet.”

“N _oo_ o,” Young Sara confirmed. “I have not.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” _A few months, at least._ Sara’s honesty with herself did not extend to telling her she was going to be shipwrecked within the year.

“I guess.” Young Sara fell quiet for a minute, visibly thinking things over. “I’m realizing how much sense it makes. Like how I used to play ‘wedding’ with that neighbor girl when we were little. Or why I was so excited for X-Files whenever it was on.”

“Mm, Gillian Anderson,” Sara agreed. “If I’m ever in the area I’m totally gonna see if she wants to hook up.”

Young Sara barked out a laugh. “God, for a minute there I forgot you could time travel. I bet you’ve made out with all sorts of famous history people.”

“A lady does not kiss and tell,” Sara replied with mock seriousness.

“What’s that got to do with you?”

“Hey!” She swatted at her younger self with a faux pout, but Young Sara just ducked aside, laughing. “Fine, fine. How about… Okay, we met King Arthur once. Turns out Merlin was a superhero from the future. And I kissed Guinevere.”

“...I genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“Spoilers.” She grinned. “You’ll find out eventually.”

“Yeah.” Young Sara slumped back against the couch, head resting on top to stare at the ceiling. “Ugh. Sucks that I’m not going to be able to remember any of this. Especially the bit about being bi; now that I know, I can see how much I’d just _assumed_ I was straight.”

“Sorry.” Sara put out her arm, and Young Sara shifted to lean against her, letting her wrap the arm round behind her. “If I let you remember the paradox would wipe me out of existence. If it makes you feel any better, I think you’ll still know subconsciously. This is about when I first remember starting to experiment with girls, the timing seems kind of suspicious.”

“Mm.” Young Sara shifted further into the hug. “Is it weird that I think you give great hugs?”

“Probably,” Sara allowed. “But ‘weird’ stopped meaning anything for me a long time ago.”

“Well, you do. You feel strong. Powerful.”

“That’ll be all the exercise. Turns out it works wonders.”

“Ugh.” Young Sara sagged dramatically at the idea. “Not looking forward to _that._ ”

“You get used to that too.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

Sara laughed. Young Sara didn’t say anything for a while, and Sara took a few more sips of her beer as the silence stretched out.

Young Sara finished working through her thoughts, then picked up her can and drained it in one go. Sara raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Can you…” Young Sara hesitated. “Show me?”

“Show you what?”

“You’re me with more experience, and we’re bi. Show me what it’s like being with a girl?”

 _Huh._ Sara hadn’t expected that one. She didn’t think it was the beer talking; unless her younger self had been drinking a _lot_ before she got here - which she would have noticed - one can wouldn’t be enough to get her drunk, even at that age. Just the act of drinking it might be enough to help her screw up her courage, though, and Sara _could_ imagine herself asking the same thing, if the positions were reversed. She was hot, after all, and had good enough taste to know it.

“I’m not exactly a representative sample, you know. Even if I didn’t know what I like, I flatter myself that I’m pretty good.”

“Does that mean you won’t do it?” Young Sara asked her, giving her a disappointed look. It was a pretty good one, too. Persuasive. _Damn, I’m good at this._ Her past was in good hands.

“No, I’ll still do it, I’m just saying.”

“ _Yesss._ ” Young Sara grinned and did a little fist pump, victorious.

“Alright, come here,” Sara instructed, moving her arm up to put her hand on the back of Young Sara’s head and pull her forwards.

“Oh, right h-?” was as far as Young Sara got before Sara leaned in and kissed her. After a moment to process, Young Sara kissed back; she was pretty good, but only having practiced on teenage boys - not, as a group, the most discerning partners - meant there was plenty of room to improve.

That was fine, though. Practicing this was hardly a _chore._

Sara broke off the kiss, lightly nipping Young Sara’s lower lip to tug at it as she pulled away. Her younger self was flushed and breathing heavily, eyes dark. “Wow,” she said, sounding a little dazed.

“Yeah,” Sara agreed. She ran a hand up Young Sara’s back under her shirt, then pressed her lips to hers again and moved the hand round to her front to squeeze her breast; Young Sara moaned into her mouth.

They continued making out for several minutes, until Sara judged her younger self well and truly warmed up. She pulled away again, ignoring Young Sara’s attempt to follow her. “No, come on, you need to move for this next part.”

“Nooo,” Young Sara whined, adorably kiss-swollen lips set in a pout.

“Yeah,” Sara told her. “It’s not far, just-” She spread her legs apart. “My leg between yours, like this.”

Young Sara shifted as directed, straddling Sara’s bare leg (her pants having been abandoned for ease of stitching the _other_ leg). Sara shifted her leg to press the thigh against Young Sara’s crotch, prompting another moan. “Yeah, just like that.” Her younger self picked up the idea quickly, starting to grind against her thigh. Sara put her hands on her hips to guide her thrusts, setting the pace and motion to work with the movement of her leg, and gave her butt a grab for good measure.

Sara kissed her again as she continued to grind, then ran her hands up Young Sara’s sides, tugging the shirt up to pull it off of her and toss it aside. She ran her hands over the younger girl’s breasts under her bra, then pulled that up and off too, leaving her chest bare. Young Sara started playing with one breast, her other hand occupied resting on the couch to help support her. Sara leaned down to put her mouth on the other, sucking at it and running her tongue over the nipple; she lightly grazed her teeth over it as she pulled away, drawing a cry from Young Sara.

She went back to making out with her younger self as she continued to grind on her leg, enjoying the little noises of pleasure she intermittently let out. Before too long the rhythm changed, Young Sara speeding up, and when their mouths parted she breathlessly gasped “I’m close.”

Sara slid her hand beneath the waistband of Young Sara’s jeans and into the sticky wetness in her panties. That threw off the rhythm of her grinding, but she continued to erratically thrust as Sara rubbed tight circles around her clit, ignoring the protests of her fingers’ muscles. Young Sara lasted perhaps thirty seconds longer before coming to a halt as orgasm hit, moaning as Sara kept rubbing until she was sure it had passed. Sara pulled her fingers out of her younger self’s pants and touched them to her lips; she obediently parted them to take the fingers into her mouth and clean them of her own juices.

It was a gorgeous sight, Sara thought. It was a shame she couldn’t see herself from the outside like this more often, or at least not safely.

“God,” Young Sara panted. “You’re right. Definitely bi. That was _incredible._ ”

Sara leaned in and kissed her again, more gently this time than their earlier heat. Then she leaned over to her ear and murmured, “Who says we’re done?”

Young Sara turned to look at her. “We aren’t?”

Sara grinned. “You asked me to show you what sex with girls was like. Multiple orgasms, one of the perks. You’ve got at least one more in you.”

“If you say so,” Young Sara said. Back at this age, Sara knew, she would have just stopped after one; it wasn’t until Nyssa that she’d realized how worth the extra effort it was. She wouldn’t remember the lesson this time either, but Sara intended to give it to her all the same.

“I do say so.” She made to get up, steadying her younger self with one arm when the motion almost threw her off-balance. “Gonna need you to get off.”

“I already did,” she pointed out, smirking, as she dismounted Sara’s leg to flop down on the couch.

“Smartass,” Sara told her.

“But damn it’s a _great_ ass,” Young Sara observed as Sara turned away from her.

“True.” Sara walked over to the cupboard. She hadn’t seen inside it yet, so fingers crossed… She opened the door and there, as she’d hoped, was one of her strap-ons, the one with the white leather harness that had been given to her as a joke when she and her crew were drunk to match her costume. It had been even funnier the next day when they’d suited up and she came out of her room wearing it over her outfit as though it belonged there.

“Where did that come from?” Young Sara asked her when she turned around and brought it into view. “Did you bring that with you?”

“Nah,” Sara said, fiddling with the straps. “I just looked where it _could_ have been, if someone had left it there before I came in.”

“Ah. Time travel.”

“It’s handy.” She bent down to remove her underwear and step into the strap-on. “Nnh,” she moaned as her end slipped easily inside her; her younger self wasn’t the only Sara for whom the grinding had been a turn-on. She gave the couch a look, considering its size and height; no, there was no good position for this. “We’ll have to take this to your bed,” she told her.

“And what if I don’t want to move?” Young Sara asked, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Sara didn’t answer verbally; instead she simply strode over to her younger self and scooped her up in her arms, carrying her with effortless ease. (Relatively effortless. Her shoulder ground, but it did that whenever she lifted any real weight.) Young Sara gave a startled gasp at the sudden movement and wrapped her arms around Sara for support.

There was an awkward moment when they got to the closed door of their bedroom, but Young Sara let go with one arm to open it, clinging harder with the other. Sara carried her over to the bed, then unceremoniously dumped her onto the mattress, ignoring her outraged squeal.

She turned away to strip off the rest of her clothes, tossing her socks, shirt, and bra in a pile on the ground. When she turned back she found Young Sara staring at her appreciatively, biting her lip.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about those scars,” her younger self realized.

“Nope.” She grinned and flexed an arm, watching Young Sara track the movement of the muscles, mesmerized. She always had liked strong women, even before she’d known why.

Sara climbed onto the bed to kneel in front of her younger self, who had adopted a kneeling pose of her own while Sara’s back was turned. With a gentle push she laid her down on the bed, allowing her to slide her hands onto her hips beneath her pants and give them a firm grip before sliding the pants and underwear down and off of her, tossing them in the direction of the pile of her own clothes.

Now kneeling between Young Sara’s spread legs, Sara leaned over her, putting most of her weight on one arm so that her body pressed lightly against her younger self’s. Not coincidentally, this left the strap-on pressed to the outside of her vagina; she cupped her cheek and lowered her head to kiss her, and as their lips made contact she shifted her hips, rubbing her with the dildo. She kept teasing her with it as they continued to make out, enjoying the noises it drew from her and the way she squirmed beneath her, trying to position herself for more sensation.

It didn’t take long for Young Sara’s patience to expire. She broke off the kiss and groaned, “Stop _teasing._ ”

“If you insist.” Sara kneeled upright again and reached down to part her younger self’s wet labia with her fingers and placed the dildo between them, only the tip pressing into her. She held that position for just a second, letting Young Sara push her hips upwards to get it deeper, then thrust her own hips down, in a single motion burying the strap-on completely inside her and pressing her down against the bed.

Young Sara threw her head back and moaned. “God, it’s so big,” she said, her voice strained. It wasn’t the biggest toy Sara owned - that would be another gag gift, the approximate size of her forearm, and _she_ still wasn’t even close to being able to take that - but it was, she was pretty sure, thicker than any of the boys she’d slept with by this age.

After giving her younger self a few seconds to adjust, Sara pulled back again, then started thrusting in earnest. Young Sara put her hands on Sara’s ass, more for something to do with them than out of any specific intent, but she did take the opportunity to get a good feel while she was there. Sara put one hand on her own breast and her other on Young Sara’s, playing with both as she continued to fuck herself.

Sara’s orgasm built faster than she’d anticipated; she was still turned on from the earlier grinding, not yet having come, and while her end of the strap-on was smaller than Young Sara’s it still did the job. She held off as long as she could, but in short order her thrusts started to stutter and the orgasm washed over her. She moaned, pussy clenching around the dildo, and propped herself up on the bed with her arms to steady herself.

“Keep going,” Young Sara told her, and Sara refocused enough to realize she’d mostly stopped, bottomed out in her younger self. She resumed, if a little shakily, and took one of her younger self’s hands in her own to move it down to her clit. Young Sara got the idea, starting to rub herself as Sara continued to thrust into her; it took only a couple of minutes more before she too reached orgasm, crying out in pleasure as Sara fucked her through it.

When it was over, Sara pulled out of her younger self and rolled over to lay next to her on the bed, both of them panting, flushed, and sweaty. Her legs protested the effort she’d put them through - both the stitched wound and the one that always ached - but she paid them no attention; it had been well worth it.

“Wow,” Young Sara said once she’d caught her breath. “I’ve got a lot to look forward to, don’t I.”

“Yup,” Sara agreed.

Her younger self sighed. “I guess now you’ve got to call in your team and erase my memory. Can I get cleaned up first?”

Sara hummed, thinking. “You know… I wasn’t on a team mission when I got jumped. They aren’t expecting me back right away; it’ll probably take a couple of days before they start worrying about me.”

“So…” Young Sara turned her head to look hopefully at her. “You’re saying we’ve got time for another round?”

“I’m saying we’ve got time for as many rounds as we can get in before tomorrow night.”

“Good,” Young Sara grinned. “I really wanna learn to eat you out.”

“Good idea.” Sara reached over and put a finger under her chin, using it to tilt her head back, then tracing it down her neck. “I think I’ll teach you to deep-throat, too. Watch you take this cock in that pretty mouth of yours.”

Young Sara shivered. “ _God_ yes.”

Sara leaned over to press a kiss to her lips. “Sounds like a plan. Now you go text Abby some excuse for why you’re not going back to her house tonight, and then we can get started.”


End file.
